The One Who Got Away

by Caroline Overington

  One of the jurors – a woman about Molly’s age – smiled at her.

  Encouraged, Molly went on, ‘People think Loren had everything. The nice house, the nice cars … but being married to David … I can’t see how anyone would enjoy being married to somebody who didn’t take care of them when they were pregnant, didn’t help with the children, didn’t try to boost their self-esteem, and who cheated with a woman in his office.’

  ‘Thank you,’ said Sandy. ‘Thank you very much, Miss Franklin.’

  Tucker got to his feet. He took a few steps this way, and then a few steps that way, before launching into his defence.

  ‘Now, I mean no disrespect, Miss Molly, but when Loren went to Mexico, did she leave her girls with you?’

  ‘Well, I wanted to take them …’

  ‘No, no, no,’ said Tucker, gently shaking his head. ‘No, it’s a simple question. Did she leave the girls with you? Yes or no?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘No? Then who did she leave them with?’

  ‘With their Aunt Janet.’

  ‘With their Aunt Janet. I see. Not with their Aunt Molly but with their Aunt Janet. Who is my client’s sister, am I right?’

  ‘That’s right.’

  ‘Well, I have to say, that surprises me,’ said Tucker. ‘That surprises me because you’ve just finished telling us how close you were to Loren and yet she didn’t leave her daughters with you when she went away. She left them with her husband’s sister, Janet.’

  ‘Yes, but that was because …’

  ‘No, wait,’ said Tucker. He stopped pacing and spoke firmly but gently. ‘I ask the questions, and you answer them. That’s how things work in the good ol’ Bienveneda Courthouse. I ask, you answer. And I didn’t ask you a question. But I’ll ask you one now. David’s sister, Janet … she lives much closer to Loren than you do, am I right?’

  Molly said: ‘Yes, and that’s why …’

  ‘No, see, here we go again,’ said Tucker, smiling (ping!). ‘We don’t want “and” and we don’t want “ifs” or “buts”. We want “yes” and “no”. That’s all. “Yes” and “no”. Loren Wynne-Estes’s sister-in-law, Janet Wynne-Estes, lives close by to Loren on what we locals call the High Side?’

  ‘Yes,’ said Molly, grumpy at being restrained.

  ‘And you live Low Side. So, over that bridge,’ said Tucker, waving an arm in that direction, ‘a fair way from where Loren lived?’

  ‘Right, and that’s why …’

  ‘No,’ said Tucker. ‘No. The point I’m making is that you say that you’re close to Loren, and that’s what you’d like the jury to believe, but how can they believe that? You don’t live near her. She didn’t leave her daughters with you when she went away. You had to go to court to get custody of them because they were actually in their Aunt Janet’s care when Loren went missing, isn’t that right?’

  Molly looked peeved. ‘That’s not right—’

  ‘I’m sorry, Miss Molly?’ replied Tucker. ‘That’s not right?’

  ‘No, I mean, they were, but—’

  ‘No buts,’ said Tucker. ‘They were in Aunt Janet’s care when Loren went missing because that’s where Loren left them. With their Aunt Janet. Not with you. And one more thing, you’ve testified that David was awful, and David was dreadful, but the fact that David was having an affair – that wasn’t something you had any idea about before Loren went missing, was it?’

  ‘The fact that I didn’t know about it doesn’t make him any less horrible,’ said Molly.

  ‘No, it doesn’t,’ said Tucker, ‘but the fact that you didn’t know about it shows us that Loren didn’t confide in you about it. You say you’re close, but when Loren was having problems in her marriage, she didn’t come to you, did she?’

  ‘No, because she knew what I would say,’ cried Molly. ‘I’d say leave him. I’d say you deserve so much better.’

  ‘Forget that. That’s not the point,’ said Tucker, very cross now. ‘You carry on like you’re close. You’re not close. You didn’t know anything about Loren’s life. You weren’t the person that Loren trusted with her children when she went away. Loren told you nothing about the trouble she was having on the home front. You’re sitting here, pretending to have insight into this marriage, and into your sister’s state of mind, but let’s be honest. You have no idea.’

  * * *

  Molly turned to the bench. ‘Could I have some water, please?’

  ‘Of course,’ I said, signalling. The court manager came running with a pitcher.

  ‘Do you feel alright?’ I asked.

  Molly had been seated in the witness box for about an hour.

  ‘I’m fine,’ she said, ‘I just needed some water.’

  Tucker seemed pleased. His point had been to rattle Molly’s belief in the closeness of her relationship with Loren, and he had perhaps succeeded, but Sandy wasn’t done with Molly.

  ‘I’d like to talk to you about an evening that you spent at your sister’s house a couple of days before she left for Mexico,’ she said.

  ‘Stepsister,’ said Tucker, rising.

  ‘Yes. Stepsister. Now, may I go on?’ said Sandy, vexed.

  ‘Please,’ said Tucker, sweeping into a bow.

  ‘Yes,’ said Molly. ‘That was the night we got the takeout chicken.’

  Sandy stepped back to the District Attorney’s table, where she ran her hand over an open binder.

  ‘Yes. I’d like to talk to you about the night you got chicken. That was three or four days before Loren was due to fly out of LAX?’

  ‘That’s right,’ said Molly, taking another small sip of water.

  ‘You went to Loren’s house?’

  ‘Yes. She was making out a schedule for the girls: what time they had to leave for school, and so on. And the girls were anxious saying, “Why do you have to go, Mom?” And Loren was doing her best to make the whole thing seem like an adventure for them, too. She said: “You know what we’re going to do? We’re going to have takeout!” And the girls couldn’t believe it. Takeout was a no-no at Loren’s house,’ Molly said, wagging her finger to stress the point. ‘Loren was a very healthy person. A farmers’ market person. She and the girls mostly ate all organic. So takeout was a big treat.’

  Sandy nodded. ‘And Peyton and Hannah – they perked up after that?’

  ‘A little,’ said Molly. ‘Peyton was given the job of finding the takeout menus in the kitchen drawers, and she seemed excited about that, but then she put the menus down and looked a bit sulky and said, “No, because I don’t want you to go.” Loren took her by the shoulders and said: “Listen to me. It’s only a few days. And we can Skype.” And Peyton perked up again, saying: “They have wi-fi on the ship?” And it was so cute, because you know, the girls are not that old, but they know how to connect to wi-fi. It all comes naturally to them.’

  Sandy put a hand down on the binder on her desk. ‘And then Loren told the girls that they could have takeout?’

  ‘Yes,’ said Molly. ‘Fried chicken, potatoes and salad. Hannah was rapt but Peyton couldn’t, or wouldn’t, decide what salad she’d like. She kept saying: “Can I come with you? Can I decide when we get there?” and “Can I sit in front?” Like she needed to be with her mom every second. Loren said to me: “Are you okay here, if I go with Peyton?” I said, sure, and I would set the table, so Loren scooped up her keys, and David …’

  ‘You mean the defendant?’ asked Sandy.

  ‘Yes, the defendant, David. He was sitting on the sofa with his back to us, reading his iPad, which frankly wasn’t that unusual because he was never not reading his iPad. That is all I ever saw him do. Loren said something like, “Hey, babe, we’re going to get some fried chicken.” She had her hand on David’s shoulder, but as far as I could tell, he didn’t even respond. She had to ask him again – something like: “Anything else I can get you?” – because David didn’t respond. He was tapping and swiping at the iPad. I remember thinking if he was my husband, I’d whack him one.’


  One of the jurors – middle-aged and probably married or divorced herself – laughed. Not loudly, but in my view, that was a bad sign for Tucker. Or, I guess, more accurately, for David.

  Molly seemed buoyed. She sat a little higher in the witness box. ‘David had that glazed look people get when they’ve been dragged away from their computer screen. He was like: “Fried chicken?” Loren had to repeat herself again, saying, “Yes. Special treat. Would you like anything else?” David was annoyed, like, you interrupted me to talk about chicken? And then – and I will never forget this – he just said: “Whatever.”’

  ‘So, this is not quite a picture of domestic bliss?’ said Sandy.

  ‘Oh no,’ said Molly, ‘no, no, no. But then it was often like that. David was often mean to Loren. Really mean. Rude. Disrespectful …’

  Tucker got to his feet. ‘My oh my, are we going to go through this again?’ he said. ‘We are not interested in your opinions, Miss Molly.’

  ‘You know, Mr Bingham, I think you’ll find that the witness’s name is Miss Franklin.’

  Twitter exploded with Woo hoos! and Go yous! and so on.

  Tucker smiled and sat down.

  Sandy turned her attention back to Molly. ‘I’m sorry. Please go on.’

  ‘Well, I’m not sure what else to say,’ said Molly, shrugging. ‘Loren took Peyton to the store to get dinner. I guess they were gone around half an hour. And now that I think of it, I don’t recall David speaking to me at all during that time. He was swiping away on his iPad but not offering to help with setting the table or anything like that.’

  David rolled his eyes at the jury. I thought: Bad move, bad move, bad move.

  Sandy seemed delighted. ‘Please go on, Molly,’ she said.

  ‘Well, Loren came home with enough food for an army. The girls crowded around and Loren hadn’t got the fried chicken, she had got a whole chicken. That was more like Loren. She started to carve and oh, I remember! She extracted the wishbone, and that was exciting. Loren told Peyton, “You can have it. Now, close your eyes and make your wish.” And they were both silent for a bit, while they each made a wish, and Loren said: “Okay, now, pull.” And they pulled, and Peyton tugged hard and Loren, being the mom, didn’t really tug at all. That was Loren’s theory: when you play games with the children, they should win. Not like David, who would smash them at Scrabble and then laugh about beating five-year-olds. So the bone broke, and the big part was Peyton’s. She was ecstatic. She was saying, “I won! I won!” And Loren was so happy, saying: “Good girl. Did you make your wish?” and Peyton said: “I did,” and Loren said: “Well, don’t tell anyone or it won’t come true,” and I said: “Make sure you keep that safe, and your mom can take her part on the ship, and when she gets back you can put them together again,” and Peyton said: “Maybe not,” and Loren said: “What do you mean, maybe not?” and Peyton didn’t say anything, but looking at her, I knew exactly what she meant. Her wish had been for her mom not to go.’

  * * *

  There is a turning point in every trial, and with David’s trial, it came when District Attorney Sandy Ruiz wheeled two empty suitcases into the court.

  Tucker the Texan stood up. ‘Objection,’ he said.

  I waved at him to sit down. ‘You knew this was coming,’ I said.

  ‘I want my objection on the record,’ he said, wagging a bent, white finger in the direction of the court stenographer.

  ‘It’s on the record. Now sit.’

  Tucker sat. Sandy wheeled the two suitcases into the centre of the courtroom. I stretched up in my seat and peered over the bench. One of the suitcases was a black Samsonite, 100 per cent polycarbonate with a scratch-resistant, micro-diamond finish, guaranteed for life. It had four spinners – wheels that turn the full 360 degrees – and a brushed metal, side-mounted combination lock.

  The other suitcase – well, was it even a suitcase? More like a travel bag. It had four sturdy wheels on the base, but it was collapsible, with zips that would allow somebody to make it bigger and then bigger again.

  ‘Ladies and gentlemen of the jury,’ Sandy said, ‘you have been sitting in court for a long time. I thank you for your patience and your attention. I need a little more of the latter because these suitcases are an important part of our case. Please take a good look.’

  Some of the jurors shuffled forward in their seats.

  ‘Now, with this big one, some of you can probably tell that this is an expensive case. In fact, it retails for nine hundred and eighty dollars,’ said Sandy.

  A couple of the jurors raised their eyebrows at each other, as if to say: ‘Woo-wee, that’s expensive.’

  ‘Yep, that’s a lot of suitcase,’ said Sandy, reading their minds, ‘and that’s a lot of money. Although, probably not to the defendant …’

  ‘Objection,’ said Tucker, rising slightly from his seat.

  ‘Withdrawn,’ said Sandy. ‘Still, you get a lot for that money. For example, look how light this case is,’ she said, using the top handle to turn the case a full 360 degrees, ‘especially when it’s empty. But is this case empty? Let’s see, shall we?’

  Sandy’s junior got up behind the defence table and helped her place the suitcase gently on its side. The jury watched, transfixed, as the two of them got onto their knees and unzipped it, leaving it open like a clam on the floor.

  ‘Yes. Here we go,’ said Sandy. ‘This case is definitely empty.’

  One of the jurors stretched up in his chair. As far as I or anyone else could tell, there was nothing in the case but elastic cross-straps, and silky lining, billowing up like clouds.

  ‘Now look at this second case,’ Sandy continued. ‘It is much smaller, but hey presto, when you start undoing these zips’ – she began doing just that – ‘it expands and expands, and by the time you’re done, why you could almost fit a whole person in here.’

  ‘Oh, objection,’ said Tucker, exasperated.

  ‘How can you object to that?’ said Sandy. ‘That’s just a fact.’

  Tucker glared, as if to say, ‘Why wouldn’t I object to that?’

  ‘That’s leading the jury,’ he said.

  ‘Well, fair enough,’ said Sandy, putting a hand on her knee for balance as she got shakily to her feet, ‘fair enough. I’d be objecting to this case being in court if I were you, too.’

  She smiled. Tucker was in no mood to smile back. Sandy looked up at me, and said: ‘May I?’

  ‘You may,’ I said.

  Sandy turned to her junior, who left the court through a side door. The jurors seemed curious. What was happening? The junior was wheeling old-fashioned medical scales into the courtroom.

  ‘Thank you,’ said Sandy. How much she knew about medical scales before the trial of David Wynne-Estes, I don’t know, but she set about balancing the weights and a steel hook. She picked up the Samsonite with both hands, and hung it from the hook, and moved the weights again.

  David, in the witness box, couldn’t take his eyes off the scales.

  ‘Let’s see,’ Sandy said, thoughtfully. ‘I make that … five pounds. Tucker, if you could confirm that?’

  Tucker got up, sulkily. He strode towards the scale and gave it a cursory glance.

  ‘You agree?’ asked Sandy.

  ‘Sure,’ he said, all surly.

  ‘We’re agreed,’ said Sandy, happily. ‘Lovely. We are agreed on something. That’s so nice. This empty case weighs five pounds. Now, if I could just ask the jury to again examine the footage of the defendant – David – and his beautiful young wife, Loren, leaving their house to go to the airport …’

  The jurors turned to look at the big screens. There, again, was footage they had seen a dozen times of David rolling their suitcases towards the car that would take them to LAX for the flight to Cabo.

  ‘We’ve seen this a dozen times. My friend Mr Bingham has already explained to you why Loren looks so happy. It’s not because she’s heading out on a much-needed second honeymoon with her husband, who she’s f
orgiven for his affair. It’s not because she believes that her marriage is back on track. It’s because she’s just killed a woman and she’s trying to cover it up by pretending to be happy. Ridiculous, in my opinion, but never mind that – how many cases do they have?’ asked Sandy.

  One juror lifted a finger and began to point and count, silently.

  ‘By my count, they have three cases between them,’ said Sandy, ‘but let’s count them together, shall we?’ She moved her red laser pointer onto the image. ‘Here we are. Loren has one – and it’s a big black Samsonite, just like this one here – and here David has two, and one of them is a blue Samsonite, pretty much like the one we have here in court today, and the other … well, it’s like this collapsible bag, isn’t it? It’s like this bag, opened up to about half its possible size, would you all agree with that?’

  The jurors reacted cautiously. Were they supposed to answer?

  ‘No, don’t answer,’ said Sandy, reading their minds, ‘all I need is for you to see what I see, which is Loren with one big black case, and David with one big blue case, and then David with his computer bag strapped around his body, and then this third case – a collapsible, canvas case – out on its wheels, too. And now, Your Honour, I’d like to call Naomi Linden.’

  ‘Very well,’ I said.

  ‘Ms Linden, what is your occupation?’ said Sandy. The question hardly seemed necessary. Naomi was wearing a flight-attendant’s uniform, complete with a silky, corporate neckerchief.

  ‘I work for North-South Airlines,’ she said.

  ‘Of course you do,’ said Sandy. From there, she took the jury through the basics: Naomi had been on duty when David and Loren Wynne-Estes had approached her counter to check in their bags for the flight to Cabo San Lucas; and yes, one of the cases that David checked in was a blue Samsonite; another was a black Samsonite; and the third case was a collapsible case, with four wheels and canvas sides, and a steel, retractable handle on the top; and yes, Naomi was able to confirm for the jury that David’s blue case had weighed fifty pounds, while Loren’s black case weighed only twenty-two pounds, and as for the collapsible case, it seemed to have almost nothing in it, for it weighed only fifteen pounds.